If you’re new to the Pod, my name is Laura and I’m a certified Feng Shui Practitioner, Curator and Stylist for you and your Space. Join me and my guests for conversations around lifestyle and wellness with a focus on living and curating our best lives. Subscribe for tips on mindful living! This hybrid Podcast & Newsletter originates on Substack where you can follow me for all the visuals, text and video. The Show is now on video with interview guests along with solo episodes so I encourage you to subscribe and watch on Substack and YouTube. For all my other content and services check out my Link-tree.

Hello and welcome back to Where Feng Shui Meets Fashion! If you’re new here my name is Laura aka The Feng Shui Lady ®️. I have been mia for a few weeks but I’m back! Since my mother died in February, I have basically been ill. In my mind inexplicably so because I haven’t been sick in so many years that I can’t remember the last time I was sick. It’s been more than 5 years, maybe ten. I can’t say for sure, but suffice it to say that I have a hardy immune system. Being as sick as I have been in recent days has been both humbling and healing.

I first fell ill after my mom’s death and service in mid February. It seemed like a common place cold that lasted a couple weeks. Symbolically, I felt like it was my body forcing me to cry, to grieve which on some level I was resisting. I eventually got better and I was finally being social and out in the world when I got sick again on March 24th after a brief but productive social period. For the most part, I have been sick since February and it’s forced me to look within and do some shadow work.

With round 2 of my illness, I lost my voice for the first couple days then it turned into a full blown flu that took me out and would not let me go. I would pass out on the couch with a box of Kleenex for no reason. I slept for days and days and started to wonder if I would ever get better. It was also in my chest this time with a painful relentless cough that left me gasping for air in the middle of the night. I had all these plans and I couldn’t show up for any of them. It’s like the universe gave me a non negotiable time out. It got so bad I finally went to Urgent Care to see if I had Covid but the line was so long and I got there close to closing so they couldn’t see me. By The next morning, I finally woke up feeling human again! Of course Mercury just went direct so I guess my time out is over! The cough is still hanging out but I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I no longer feel like I’m at death’s door begging for mercy.

I have basically been self quarantined because I didn’t want to spread whatever I had and quite honestly I would get dizzy just trying to do little things like feed myself. Thank God for Grubhub.

I’m one of those people who attributes everything medical to something emotional or spiritual. Think Louise Hay… She would say my initial cold represented “ Too much going on at once. Mental confusion, disorder. Small hurts…” As for the persistent cough, Louise would say it represents “A desire to bark at the world! See me! Listen to me!” Yep, all that rings true.

Following my mother’s passing, I was navigating my father and brother’s grief, and spending time in my childhood home with them. I slept in my childhood bedroom which my mother had long since taken over. My parents have slept in separate bedrooms for the last decade. My brother has been living with them for over a decade as well. We are Latin so it’s not as weird as it sounds.

While I was staying at my family home, my father, brother and I were navigating all the details and legalities of death. Death certificates, changing banking and billing information, updating our family trust, life insurance policies blah, blah, blah. The loose ends seem endless.

I was mostly pretty numb. I was present to cook for the men in my family and be the new matriarch. I was there to show them how to do laundry. I cooked and made it known we would be eating in the dining room…. I was the new matriarch.

I cried at the service because seeing your mother’s dead body is jarring and macabre. That said, overall I did not feel grief stricken. My biggest concern has been my dad and how sad and fragile he is. He’s sort of lost without her (like a Stockholm Syndrome survivor). I can tell he doesn’t want to hang around much longer. He really misses her even the yelling and the insults. They were pretty toxic. My mom had a sharp tongue and a short fuse. I never understood their dynamic. I think it’s why I have not married. I remember as a child thinking if this is love, I’ll take a pass.

My dad and I are close now. It’s a relationship that was built over time and largely in my adult years because my dad traveled a lot for business during my childhood. He was lovely but busy and far away. My mother and I fought it out during the times when my father was not around. When he was around, I served as a point of contention. I can look back and see it all now…. He was traveling and working to support our family. I did not become close to my dad until I was an adult. Meanwhile, I was subject to my mother’s disdain for most of my life. As mentioned, I hadn’t really cried much or grieved my mother’s death the way one would expect and believe me I have grieved before and I am very expressive! I know what that feels and looks like and this was different.

It wasn’t until I got sick and had nothing but memories and feverish dreams for company that I really felt the weight of my mom’s death. I had to get mad before I could allow myself to feel sad. I remembered episodes from my childhood that I had blocked out because they were so painful. It was like the universe needed me to feel and remember everything and it wasn’t fun.

Evelyn and I had a complicated relationship and I am conflicted about how much of it I want to reveal here. I will let you in on a little secret though, Evelyn aka Mamita did not “like” me. She did however adore my older brother so it wasn’t like oh she’s just not maternal. It was me. I was the problem. She felt I wasn’t very bright. It’s true that I wasn’t the best student and I did have an attendance problem, but I wasn’t dumb. I was just checked out in my own way. A mental escape artist. One of her favorite things to call me was “Estupida!” That’s Spanish for stupid. She would constantly remind that there were volumes and volumes of things that I did not know. Encyclopedias full she would insist! In reality you could say that about anybody, but whatever.

I apparently was not planned and she would emphasize the point by telling me “I wish you were never born!” She begrudgingly raised me. She kept me alive but she killed my spirit in the process. If she loved me, it was out of obligation not adoration.

Over the years, I did some therapy around this and read some books and eventually just went numb to her as a form of self preservation. She was blatantly hostile towards me even in my adult years. Actually, she got meaner as I got older because there was less pretense. One time I was visiting my parents for my father’s birthday I think and without provocation my mom blurted out that I looked heavy! “Laura that dress makes you look fat. You don’t have the right body for that!” My heart sank and I never wore that dress again. It’s not like I had anything I could change into either. I just had to suck it up and feel chubby for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, compared to her, I looked like a freaking super model. She was the one who was actually overweight. Listen in spite of all her put downs, I really made an effort to connect with her for many years. She just had no interest and one can only take so much rejection. So yes, I went numb.

In my adult years my father has consistently called every year to wish me a happy birthday. My birthday is the day after Christmas so growing up I never actually had birthday parties. As a result, I am a little sensitive about my birthday. People are preoccupied that time of year. So I am delighted when he calls! My dad always asks my mother if she wants to talk to me. Usually she declined, but once in a blue moon she did talk to me and we would have an empty perfunctory conversation. It was performative for my dad I suppose. She just wasn’t curious about me or what I was up to.

A couple weeks before she died my mom joined Substack. She was on here where I host a podcast and a newsletter. If you’re wondering, no she did not subscribe. For those of you listening to this or who aren’t familiar with Substack, when you join, it alerts you of all your contacts on the platform. She would have seen me and consciously chosen not to follow or subscribe. Same with Facebook, I sent her friend request years ago. It’s still pending. Even on her death bed when my father asked Evelyn if she wanted to talk to her daughter, she declined one last time. That’s how she left things. That final rejection was the nail in the coffin for me. This cough is me screaming why don’t you love me…

I suppose I have been going through something and I am embarrassed to admit it. I have mommy issues. I really wanted her to like me. I chased that validation my whole life and eventually gave up. When I looked for validation elsewhere like for instance in my dating life, I found myself dating men who made me feel the same way my mother did. Invisible, unlovable, and like I was taking up too much space. Now that my mom’s gone, I want to focus finding my voice and being there for my dad. Perhaps one day I will meet someone more like him. Carlos is present, reliable, always interested in what I’m up to. He is protective and generous and always so excited to see me. I don’t have to initiate every interaction. He’s got me on his radar and anticipates my needs in ways that make me feel seen and safe. He’s the best man I know…

Listen, I believe in death all is forgiven and whatever messed up karmic bond my mother and I had; that dynamic is over now. The slate is clean. In death, my mother has left me her jewels, her car, her husband and a strange feeling that she’s now rooting for me. She’s finally paying attention and hooking me up with blessings from the other side. And yes, I am finally finding my voice.

I feel like this illness was a spiritual cleansing. Just like how in a Shamanic Ayahuasca journey it begins with you getting violently ill. It’s part of the process and price you pay to reach some level of enlightenment. A purging happens and then there is room for the blessings to enter. That’s how this year has felt for me and I know I’m not alone in this. We are in a 9 universal year which is also the year of the Snake and it’s affecting all of us collectively. It’s a death and rebirth for each of us in some way. The universe does not make us suffer in vain, there is always a reward like flowers after it rains.

In the midst of my recent dark nights, I was inspired to deepen my Feng Shui practice with Black Sect Tantric Buddhist Feng Shui transmissions, traditions and teachings. On the March 29th New Moon Lunar Eclipse, I dove into a 3 month long Feng Shui Mastermind. I feel like I’m on a magical mystery tour.

Today, my self quarantine finally ended and I mustered the energy to visit a dear friend with a beautiful garden. It was a gorgeous day and I felt like I was seeing the world through a whole new lens. With my Feng Shui eyes and Rose Colored glasses so to speak! I wore white because that’s the color you wear during a Shamanic experience. Something has shifted. I feel grateful for every little thing! Blessings everyone and Ciao for now.

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